


Young memories

by pseudodias



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudodias/pseuds/pseudodias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just imagine if Thomas de Carneillon and Altaïr were friends as children growing up. Who knows what would have become of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young memories

**Author's Note:**

> The typical AU setting that seems like could have happened if Ubisoft went that way with it.

He intrigued him.

Always running about the massive fortress whenever Monsieur Carneillon stopped by to visit Al Mualim. The one thing Altaïr can remember is that damned black ponytail flowing in the wind as the French boy ran by with a gigglish taunt. He'd made it known that his sole purpose was to bother the antisocial Syrian.

"Bet you can't catch me, aigle~!"

Something about that boy made Altaïr close his book and chime in with a sassy retort before giving chase. Two young novices, both blissfully free of their upcoming duties. It's why becoming friends in separate brotherhoods are toxic. Always. Because after the long weeks Altaïr and Carneillon stayed together, they soon began to dread the departure. Carneillon returned to Paris, while Altaïr longed for another meeting.

Years would pass and once again the boys found themselves together. Teens now. With much to talk about. They both spent hours in the library reading and sharing tales, unaware of the emotions starting to mix between them. When they trained, it was together. When they fought, it was back to back. They were young masters at heart.

And then one night, Carneillon cut his hair and presented his disheveled look to the brunette Syrian. 

Altaïr didn't like it.

Carneillon's hair was the one thing that wove a timeline on how long they'd been apart. And the idiot cut it. No doubt after being scolded, the French boy never cut his hair again.

A promise he'd kept forever. The next time they met, both boys were masters. Altaïr being a few years graduated than his best friend. Wounded and irate, Altaïr found himself being saved by a man with a long, black ponytail. Automatically he knew who his savior was. Robes much like his own. It was his Carneillon.

The only time Altaïr began to worry was when the letters stopped coming and he learned of Carneillon's sickness. He couldn't fathom the thought of his childhood friend being defeated by an illness. Until one day, a letter arrived stating that Carneillon was indeed well. Altaïr could finally relax. All that was left was to see that damned ponytail again and steal the ribbon like old times.


End file.
